


Choices To Make

by IneffablePlan (Megafowl)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Anxiety, Character Study, Gen, Internal Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 11:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megafowl/pseuds/IneffablePlan
Summary: After the incident in Eden, Aziraphale weighs his options.





	Choices To Make

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking about Aziraphale immediately protecting and looking out for people he probably thinks he shouldn't. Thanks PJ for looking this over. Also, this is a hundred words over what I can usually type at once so maybe I'm improving.

Aziraphale had prepared for many things upon receiving his assignment. What he wasn’t prepared for was the pain.

Not his own pain; that was expected. He was trained for that, it came with wielding a sword. One couldn’t hold a weapon and expect others to not use theirs, after all.

He hadn’t expected that twisting restless anxiety, the crying snake that constricted all his impulses until everything was condensed into the raw urge to help. He’d never been close enough to someone else’s distress to see the way it chips at them before, and he was beginning to think that may have been preferable.

He’d seen Eve, and he’d seen Adam, and he’d seen Crawly, pitiable in their own individual ways, and the choices he’d made had barely felt like choices at all, while he was making them. It was the realizations afterwards, that he may have done something wrong— _he wasn’t supposed to be able to do anything wrong_ —that froze and stung. The guilt and insecurity that eventually wore an old scar into him, which ached when the weather was bad—that was the part that dug its claws in.

He was a go _od_ angel, he told himself. He followed orders. _Good_ , he insists, in the back of his mind as he lies about the sword, as he tries to not think about how the friendly demon had shied from the new invention of rain.

He tastes both shades of regret. The ones of action and the ones of inaction. He could go home, he knows, and not worry about making the wrong decisions, not worry about making decisions at all.

It wouldn’t be just him, alone, stumbling forward with no guidance.

He thinks about it, tense in the sun, with one of the Enemy adjusting feathers and ringlets and muttering to himself a few metres away. Vain creature. Aziraphale sighs, because he’s never had to _act_ before, and he isn’t sure he likes it, but Crawly looks up with such genuine concern over the sound that it’s one more choice made for him before he even knows it.


End file.
